Oblivious
by DarkMysteryMan
Summary: Thomas is out looking to right a terrible wrong, but he doesn't realize that someone he trusts was behind it all along. Once he does, he does things unimaginable, taken over by his vengeance.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Downton Abbey.

Thomas had just walked out of the cinema with one of his new male friends he'd been talking to for a few months now. The night had been mediocre. He was forced to compromise with his date on which movies to see. Daniel forced him to watch _Innocent_. It hadn't been half bad, he'd shed a tear at one point for one of the bastard children being maltreated. But the movie became tiresome after repeated pushes for feminism. He was all for women's rights, but he'd been in the mood for _Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_, which had been out for almost a year now. He liked to identify with Holmes, as he believed the both of them had calculating minds, albeit different methods of using them.

"Oh, quit scowling. I know you survived it," the hazel-eyed brunette with a shiny white smile had said. "Besides, you got to watch yours too. And don't tell me you didn't find Basil Rathbone attractive."

Thomas kept a straight face, which made Daniel stare at him likewise in a mimicking attempt. This made Thomas break out into a laugh, as the other male knew it was impossible for him to keep a grudge for long—with him, at least.

"Do you have to go back to that oppressive manor of yours, yet? I'd go with you to introduce myself and keep company for a while, but your stories discouraged me."

Thomas forgot to mention to Daniel that basically everyone in the house was suspicious of his—err— pleasures. But it didn't matter, so Thomas nodded in agreement.

Thomas looked at his newly bought chain. "It's only 9," he said. "Let's spend an hour exploring this part of town before we go back to your place."

"Are you sure that you want to venture into the dark unknown, where we could be swallowed at any moment?" Daniel had said this only half-jokingly. There actually was a risk of finding trouble on these streets at this hour, especially for the two of them, should someone catch on to their familiarity with each other at this time of day.

"As long as I have you on my side," Thomas quipped back.

They decided to walk to a museum on the edge of town, where both of them had seen several times, but neither had stepped foot inside. Luckily, it was still open for a half hour more.

On the 15-minute walk there, Thomas and Daniel had turned around 3 times, hearing stomping on grass, the sound of shoes clacking on the pavement, then a rustle in the bushes. Each of them innocently shrugged it off both times, but on the last one, they hid behind veiled apprehension, chiding each other for worrying so much.

The museum wasn't a gallery of pieces worldwide, it was simply a showcase of the local artisans' work. However, Thomas had noted the work of one Alice Townshend, who lived close to Downton. There was a peculiar painting of a man riding a bicycle, but had such a constrained look on his face that he seemed on the verge of constipation, as Daniel quite inappropriately pointed out. He was the reason Thomas had been so happy the past few months. His incredible sense of humor lighted up his dreary life whenever he got to see him.

"I'll be right out, I'm just using the john."

"Don't get constipated," his beautiful lover said.

As Thomas was using the toilet inside, Daniel found out what those sounds behind them truly were. He was tapped on the shoulder, and jumped up. He quickly turned to face the person, and it was a man a few years younger than him, who seemed incredibly drunk. Before he could open his mouth to ask him why he was following them, he punched him in the face and dragged him behind the building, where no one could see them. Daniel waited for the moment to resist, knowing this boy was quite strong. As he loosened his grip so he could push him, he socked him in the throat and kneed him in his crotch. He began to yell for Thomas, and as he did this, the drunk person cracked his whiskey bottle over his head and thumped his face with the glass until it broke into pieces. Daniel couldn't even see, being blinded by the shards, so the defense he put up was untenable. He fell to the ground, and his assailant took out a knife, gutting him in the lung, whispering into his ear, "That's what you get for talking to him."

As he said this, Thomas had come around and pushed the attacker to the ground. He tried frantically getting a hold of him, but was only able to secure a few locks of hair, unintelligible in the night.

He actually got a good look at his companion's face for the first time. He screamed out in terror, breaking into tears. "Who did this to you?! I'll kill them! We have to get you to a hospital!"

"Listen." Daniel was gasping his last breaths of air through his one working lung. "He whispered into my ear, 'that's what you get for talking to him.' "

"When I get a hold of that sodding homophobe, I'll—"

Through immense coughs of blood, Daniel said, "He's not—a—homophobe. He mentioned you specifically. If he was trying to get both of us, he would've said associating, or fornicating. No. This man loves you. He killed me for you. But, promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Don't cling to me like most people do. Live your life. Stay Thomas."

With that, Daniel's face grew motionless. Thomas ran inside and screamed to the curator to call for a doctor and the police.

While that was being done, Thomas lay next to the body, crying his eyes out, begging the heavens for a reprisal. If they didn't give it to him, he'd be the angel of retribution. But, he promised to himself that day to _kill_ the person who had taken away his only chance at happiness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so I'm trying to do this fic right, so please, some positive crit on what you guys want to see or what you guys like. However, I don't know England's geography, so bear with me.**

"Did you get a description of the aggressor?" was the detective's first question.

Thomas asked the detective to follow him into the museum corridor. Once they were there, both could obviously see that it belonged to a head colored dishwater blonde.

"Were you able to identify anything else about them?"

"Besides them obviously being male, he appeared to be incredibly intoxicated. And he whispered into the ear of Daniel, 'that's what you get for talking to him,' which I believe was referring to me."

At this the officer was suspicious. "Mr. Barry, what exactly is your relationship to this… Daniel Rodham?"

"I told you, he's my friend that lives down the street from Downton Abbey."

The detective narrowed his eyes. He saw through the easy lie. "But, Mr. Barrow, Downton Abbey is almost a 45-minute walk from here."

Thomas was sensing the officer had suspected the real relationship between him and Daniel. "Shouldn't you be asking questions about the scene of this crime?"

"I am merely trying to establish motive for this assault. And you promise me that you are telling the complete truth?"

"Yes."

"OH, and one last thing. We heard someone following us on the way here after we had left a movie theater."

"You and this Mr. Rodham attended the cinema by yourselves?"

Thomas knew if he answered yes, the police would know. _If _they knew, they would simply dismiss this obviously planned crime as an 'unexplained tragedy.' Thus, he decided to lie to save his own skin and avenge Daniel.

"Yes, we attended with some young ladies, but we parted ways shortly after."

That was when Thomas realized he'd only told a half-lie. Daniel had told him previously that he preferred both genders for—pleasure—but that he was thinking of settling down with him. He caught him flirting with a couple of girls, unbeknownst to him, and as he walked into the conversation he'd played it off as only a friendly acquaintance. He could see a man scowling in the corner, but only looking at Thomas briefly. But he had hair of the darkest black! Probably not even worth mentioning.

Detective Farley interrupted, asking if Thomas had gotten their names.

He replied with Kate and Ida.

"Excellent. Once my partner returns with the ambulance, we can begin tests on the body. Meanwhile, I will seal off this part of the grass to ensure the evidence is preserved. You may go home if you like, Mr. Barrow."

"Alright, but how long will it take to get a break in the investigation?"

"Probably two weeks."

"Two?!"

"Numerous things must be looked at, sir. I promise, we will have a culprit before too long. As long as everything checks out." With that last sentence, he stared deeply into Thomas with a slightly scornful, slightly admonishing look.

Numerous emotions were going through Thomas' head. He was angry at Daniel's killer, annoyed with the officer's prejudices, and just sad that this was the second person who Thomas had cared for that had been taken away from him by death. He hadn't forgotten that time with Edward Courtenay in the military hospital, before he had killed himself. He thought that he could find love with Jimmy, but either O'Brien had led him on or he wasn't ready to deal with those feelings, but Daniel—_Daniel was better than Jimmy_. He not only was handsome, but he made Thomas feel good about himself. He made Thomas into a better person.

But that was all gone now, because of some heartless fool who was motivated by hate, jealousy, whatever—to steal away the one person he truly loved.

The walk back was long. And as if things couldn't get any worse, it began to rain. As he entered the gates of Downton, Carson was getting ready to close for the night.

"Mr. Barrow, you are just in time. You were about to be shut out! I suggest you get some sleep, for tomorrow is going to be very eventful."

"Of course, Mr. Carson." The smile Thomas attempted was weak. He was about to enter the manor house when he heard Carson welcoming Matthew back into the house as well.

"How was your business trip, Mr. Crawley?"

"Exhausting. I'm in excruciating pain from the—err—train ride." He was slurring his words.

"But the nearest train station here is a 20-minute walk from here!"

"I was looking to enjoy the night."

"Are you alright, Mr. Crawley?"

"To be honest, I am not. I am soaking wet, there is a deep pain in my throat, and for some reason I can't walk straight."

"Forgive me for asking my lord, but are you drunk?"

"To be honest Carson, I had a little too much tonight. I was walking on my way home and knew I wouldn't be able to take the car in this condition, so I caught the train. Please do not tell a soul. This is the only time I've done it. Even if you do, I'm still technically a lawyer. You won't be able to outwit me. Oh, dear God. I didn't mean for that to come out."

Carson, keeping a straight face as always, a prerequisite for a job where one constantly discovers the dirty secrets of a house's inhabitants and is accidentally snubbed by them, helped Matthew onto the steps as they walked into the house. As he sat him down on a couch, Carson gave him the sternest of his stern looks.

"I am repeating this incident to no one. So, if I discover that it has been repeated, I will know exactly who to fire. Do you understand?"

Thomas nodded gravely, his entire body trembling. He wasn't scared of Carson, but slightly shaken by Matthew's characteristic of himself that night. The indicators were flashing in his head. Matthew and the murderer both had dishwater blonde hair, both were incredibly drunk, and the time it took Matthew to reach the house was probably accurate. It was quite disturbing, as his new occasional office wasn't too far from the museum, where he could've stashed all the weapons of the murder, hopped onto a train, then reach Downton about the same time as him. Plus, Daniel obviously would've resisted! Is it likely that he would've punched his attacker in a vulnerable spot, like the throat?

Thomas was shaking his head fiercely. _No, Mr. Crawley is a good man. He wouldn't have it in his heart to do something this. He doesn't even have a damn reason._

Yet he couldn't deny the timing of it all. Besides, what would he be doing in that part of town anyway?

He wanted to trust Matthew, but he had to be sure first. After he found out about the police's investigation, he'd continue from there.


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn't sleep that entire night. He had simply stared at the ceiling thinking of all that had happened to him. He finally managed to close his eyes in the wee hours, getting about 2 hours until Daisy obnoxiously banged the door open in his room. He turned to the clock as she told him he was needed to help make early preparations for the garden party that was to happen later that afternoon. It was 5:00, an hour before they usually got up. Sodding great. He realized he was going to have to deal with all of the annoying people that made up the Downton staff that day, and restrain himself from throwing O'Brien, most of all, out of a window. Worst of it all, there was no one that he felt he could even express this inner anguish to, what with Lady Sybil dead and everyone else judging him over his earlier incident with Jimmy. The two weren't even on speaking terms after that.

Nevertheless, he dragged himself out of bed, and threw on his working clothes. The shower would have to wait until the arrogant lords and ladies with their whiny, entitled children vacated the house. After throwing some cold water on his face, he headed downstairs.

He met an anxious and angry Carson, for some reason mad that he hadn't come down earlier after taking only 5 minutes to get ready. He was to fetch four boxes of jarred fruits from the cellar and then do the curious task of moving the house's furniture outside, no doubt the work of well-meaning but self-centered Lady Crawley. Good god, he was bashing everyone today.

The rest of the day was spent preparing foods and decorating the outside. Around afternoon, the guests began to pour in. Thomas was called to a table to serve drinks and once he saw Matthew's face among them, the tray and his hands could not stop shaking once again. Surprisingly, he spilled on no one that day. He thought it would be the last time he had to see his face that day, until he called his name once more.

"Barrow, come here please."

Thomas silently pinched the bridge of his nose in his head while having a neutral look about him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Could you run in and ask Lady Mary to bring my croquet upon leaving our room?"

"Of course."

Matthew was not lazy, but he did have lapses where he made the servants do things he'd rather not do at certain times. He also found it odd that he would not go to his own wife himself. He met Lady Mary on the steps and told her of the request.

"You can just go in and find it yourself, the door's open. I don't know where he'd put the thing. It's not my problem."

She walked away. Thomas raised a brow. _Was she just being extra bitchy today, or were she and Thomas having problems?_ _Was this important in finding out why Thomas was in the outskirts of Yorkshire?_

Thomas shrugged it off. He went into their room and took this opportunity to snoop around. He had to be quick, as there was no telling when someone could walk in, especially a frazzled Dowager looking for someone to plot a new conspiracy with.

He made his way to the room after a brisk walk up 3 floors and eyed a chest. He ran to it, pulling out each drawer one by one, but delicately as a doctor operating on a patient, making sure not one thing was taken out of place. He rummaged through nearly everything, but found nothing until he eyed a closet in the wall hidden by a heavy curtain, which had only caught his eye. He was about to go for it until Mrs. Hughes barged in.

"And what is it that you are doing, Mr. Barrow?"

"I was searching for Mr. Crawley's croquet. For which reason he wants it, I do not know. I suggest you go back downstairs and ask him if you do not believe me."

"That is not why I am here. Mr. Carson wants you to take out more hors doeuvre's for the guests."

He was visibly irritated, being on the verge of a great discovery. "Tell him I'll be five minutes."

"Well, carry out Mr. Crawley's request then get down here! Mr. Kent's weekend visit to his cousin's could not have been worse-timed."

It was interesting how Jimmy was in such a large part of Thomas' life, but they never talked to each other. He would try to be friendly on his return, but it would likely be to no avail. Frankly, he'd given up on him. But he mustn't let himself be distracted by such things. The hidden cabinet. Thomas slowly opened it, yet found nothing but his medications. He soon became discouraged.

However, he looked out the window and saw there was much more space there than was showing. He knocked on the wood, and a hollow noise was made. He found a switch on the bottom left corner, and flipped it. It unlocked a hidden compartment. Inside were a bunch of notes. He read all quickly, but the one that caught his eye was that which read "Follow target tonight. Get them out of the way early, while still can," which was dated the day before.

He didn't know what to make of it. He went to the higher cabinet where he knew Mr. Crawley always kept his croquet after closing the compartment, then the cabinet. Thomas couldn't help but hold on to the paper, to make sure he hadn't missed anything. After all, if it warranted a secret compartment, how would Matthew alert the entire house that the paper had been stolen, especially with what was written on it? With a self-satisfied smile at his finesse, he strolled out.

After all of the guests had left, Jimmy ironically came in, ready to get to work. As usual, Thomas attempted a greeting, but was met which ignorance from Jimmy. He went to his own room to examine the note, reading the words again and again to himself. He couldn't find anything else, but he knew that he must act. He remembered the promise he'd made to himself. There were so many ways to get to Crawley, but how was he to do it without getting caught? And could he bring himself to kill this person whom everyone adored, including himself (still, in a way, after all that had happened)?

He wouldn't feel 100% fulfilled until the killer knew who killed _him_, until he forced the killer to apologize, and until Thomas punished him severely enough to make him regret ever killing his lover. Most of all, Thomas had to get away with it.

He had to be sure that it was Matthew. So much was at stake if he was wrong. But he was dead inside. He and Daniel had been together for nearly a year and he knew he was the one. He thought other people might consider him cynical. Fuck them. They didn't know what it was like, so they had no right to judge.

3 unbearable weeks later, he got a call from the detective to go down to the station, officially to serve as a witness, his reason for going to know more about the investigation.

He was led into a secluded interview room by Detective Farley. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Barrow. I think you'll be happy to know that we found many helpful items at the scene."

Thomas was as anxious as a dog with the scent of a bone. "Like what?"

"Now, I'm not supposed to divulge that to everyone, but given the circumstances, I think I can make an exception, provided you don't go around telling people."

"Of course."

"Very well. From the crime scene, we found that the attacker had size 12 shoes, and that a piece of his overcoat tore on one of the poles. This is one of the reasons I called you in. Which direction did the murderer go?"

"Away from the museum, by way of the pavement, I believe."

"Excellent, that is where we obtained the material. And you should know that the material is a cotton, meaning the person we are dealing with here is most likely a part of the lower or middle class."

It was pretty bloody obvious that an officer would say that, but even Thomas knew that was flimsy at best. Reluctantly, he asked if there was anything else. He soon regretted asking.

"The glass shards in Mr. Rodham's face were from an alcohol bottle, most definitely, due to the way the particles scattered, and your description of the man being drunk. "

Thomas wanted to escape this conversation as soon as possible.

"Is that it?"

"Yes, for now."

"May I recommend a lead? Discreetly? Investigate one of the residents of my house, Matthew Crawley. He came home to our house in a –"

"Are you mad?! We cannot waste our resources harassing such a highly-esteemed member of this community."

"A man is dead, and this is very likely his killer! If you'd only hear me out—"

"Mr. Barrow, I'd appreciate it if you allow us to do the investigating, as we are experienced."

"That's debatable." It slid out like honey, but Thomas still regretted saying it.

"You will leave at once."

Well, Thomas had pissed off the police, destroying his only chance of legally exposing Matthew. He was starting to realize that the only real integrity in the world is that which one creates. He'd be paying a visit to Matthew's office in a few days, he knew that much.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is my last post for this week due to school, but I'll put some more up next weekend. Comments and inquiries plz**

He was entitled to one of his afternoons off on Thursday, so he got ready for a stroll downtown. He put on his recently received _Brooks' Brothers_ suit, a gift from a friend. He was radiating confidence in his black suit with white pinstripes. He put on a hat to disguise his face, then walked out with cash for the bus. Just to make extra sure, he asked Carson when the family would be back from their outing. He had until 7:00. Three hours to raid Matthew's files.

He walked to the train depot, thinking of the one true lead the officer had found. The shoe size was 12. That could eliminate Matthew if anything else. However, that would be trickier to get. He had to be positive about everything else before just looking to that.

After a smooth ride, he disembarked and headed straight for the office. He knew his way there, as he had been asked to run errands there before.

He shut the door behind him and found himself in a hallway to three offices, and there were people inside one of them! Damn! He couldn't be caught trying to break into Mr. Crawley's room, for they obviously knew what he looked like. Yet, as if things couldn't get worse, they were coming out of their offices, Mr. Darwin (as the sign read) and one of his clients. He needed to find something. He chose a sofa in the far corner at the end of the hall, next to the office of Matthew Crawley. God help him if the heavyset man had use for it. He stayed in the stuffy, cob-webbed corner, praying their eyes would just skip that place.

A woman with a nasally voice bellowed at the heavyset man. "Yes, Edward, I can call my cousin, but what I want to know is if Martha will pay up if we force the embezzlement charge on her?"

"Ma'am, you know what you are asking me to help you do is extortion."

"Clara," a second nasally woman said, who sounded like she could be Clara's twin, "I told you already that if we just talk to Martha, she'll return your coat! Years of prison aren't worth 50 pounds."

Clara gasped. "A-A- Are you implying that I would spend _only_ 50 pounds on a coat? Times may be changing, but I haven't sunk to the gutter just yet."

_When will she shut up and leave?_

After a few minutes of argument and Edward being the mediator, he extricated himself by claiming he had to close, much to Thomas' delight. He peered through slightly and saw he was telling the truth.

He had to wait, cramped up in this space another agonizing 10 minutes, then he heard the door shut, seeing Edward Darwin in hat and walking stick.

His new problem, though? Jimmying the lock. He had to do it without looking like he was breaking in. A new lawyer could come it at any time, so he had to be fast. He turned his head both ways to make sure he was alone, then got to work. He wiggled the handle while using a bobby pin he'd admittedly stolen from Lady Mary's room the night before for this sort of thing. He succeeded.

On opening the door, he closed it upon entering, but as he went further into the forest of this organized mess that Matthew liked to call his office— with a forest of stacked papers on the table and filing cabinets scattered around the room along the walls— he didn't take care to see that the lock clicked. This hinge was elastic, too, meaning it sprung wide open, but so quietly, Thomas never heard.

_Where to start? _He thought to himself.

There was an inside room through a doorway without a door, where a shiny mahogany desk lay. There were drawers on one side, where he knew Matthew would be hiding the murder weapons, if nowhere else.

However, he needed to find keys…

The room was extremely dark, as Matthew had the windowless office. He fumbled around for light, cursing himself as he knocked down a stack of papers in the black. Once he'd found a switch, he looked at the mess with dismay for a split-second then with excitement. The keys were wedged between pages, now haphazardly scattered all over the floor. He picked up all of them into a huge handful then threw them all over the top of Matthew's desk. After numerous trials-and-errors, he managed to unlock all of them and in all but two were only more keys, presumably to the file cabinets. _Hmm, he must care a great deal about what's inside those. _Unfortunately, he didn't find any clues in the other drawers. He knew he couldn't leave empty-handed. He needed something. He looked for a way into drawer R.

Each of the keys had a letter on them, and there were numerous R's, so he tried his hand at all of them until only one opened the 'R' drawer.

He pulled it out, and to his sheer shock, he actually found 'Rodham, Daniel.' He hesitated. This could be the final proof he needed. He took a deep breath and opened it.

His mouth was agape. There were numerous pictures of him and Daniel throughout town, of Daniel by himself in his house, at the market, in the park. There was a list of his physical makeup, relatives, his eating habits. What. The. Hell. Was. Going. On.

Thomas checked other files just to be sure.

Matthew had left the family before their boat trip on the lake, as Mary had been giving him the cold shoulder all day. He didn't want to deal with her today, of all days. This was the day he was getting a huge lead in one of his side cases. He was now committed to Downton, but he couldn't abandon the thrill of his legal career. Industrial law may sound boring, but the kinds of clients he's worked with never fail to astound him. Where there's money involved, there's danger. He was still feeling terrible about the Rodham affair. He'd never meant for it to end that way. If he hadn't been drunk, he might've been able to stop it.

He hurried back to Yorkshire in the afternoon, claiming illness, then hurried to his office to wait for his informant, due in an hour.

He opened the door into the hallway, but noticed that his end office was wide-open, and the lights were on.

"Looks like he's come for me," he said under his breath, pulling out his military-issue Webley revolver and tip-toed into the office.

He went towards the back room.

Thomas was astounded. He had to steal this file and bring it back with him. Why Matthew kept files on other people wasn't his problem. He only cared about bringing Matthew, Daniel's obvious killer to justice.

He was closing the drawer, prepared to leave, while he felt the cold barrel of a pistol on the back of his head.

Then, a voice belonging to no other than Matthew Crawley said, "Drop the damn file or I'll blow your brains out."

Thomas complied.

"Now, turn around."

He obeyed this command too, the gun on his skull being the paramount priority in his life at that moment.

Matthew was incredulous.

For long having an analytical mind, he still could not bring himself to understand what was going on. Why and _how_ had the under-butler of his house raided his office like a common criminal? It couldn't be… Matthew's trail had been left clean and checked over and over again to make sure no one could trace anything back to him. Yet he might be mistaken. He decided to ask the obvious question that anyone who had discovered such an unexpected, flagrant, violation of privacy would've asked.

"Barrow?! What in hell are you doing here?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so right after I said there wouldn't be any new fics until the weekend, I got working on this. So here it is. But unfortunately, this is ****really**** the last one until then.**

Thomas was looking for the right moment to attack. He knew he could lose his job over this, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

"Don't pretend that you don't know why I'm here, sir."

Matthew chose to play coy, not wanting to risk giving up more than he should. He was quite nervous inwardly, although he appeared menacing without, still holding his gun in Thomas' face, albeit further away at this point. "If I did, I wouldn't have asked you, would I?"

"I might as well say it. I'm probably going to lose my job over this as it is. You killed the only man I have ever loved. We were having a marvelous night out, and I left his side for only a few minutes, and for some reason –I still don't know why—" Thomas had to choke back his tears. "You beat him to a pulp, bashing him for hate, jealousy, _some_ reason. Then you stabbed him just to cause him extra pain when his end was already sealed. Tell me. Why did you do it. What reason could you possibly have?! He was the best man alive. He had no enemies and made friends wherever he went."

At this, Matthew lowered his gun slowly, and put it back in his coat, but Thomas lunged and tackled him to the ground and started punching him.

Matthew was so taken aback by the sudden strike that he was simply trying to protect his face so he could talk. "Tho—Thomas! For god's sake, listen to me…"

He was relentless. He heard, but he didn't listen.

"You don't want me to do this, B—Barrow"

He did some boxing with his comrades-in-arms on the way to France. Once he saw he was getting tired, the heir to Downton gave him a painful upper cut which made him slump against the back of the desk in pain.

Matthew got up and said, "Look, I didn't kill your—err—boyfriend." He eyed the filing cabinets. "I trust you've seen the files on Daniel. Sit down. I'm not a threat to you." He smiled wryly. "I'm not sure if it's reciprocal, but just hear me out, please? I neg you, I don't like to see people so sad."

Thomas grudgingly sat in the chair opposite the cabinets.

Matthew leaned in to keep his voice down, making him flinch. "You must know that the only reason I'm telling you this is because you were familiar with Daniel. You have a right to know what he was truly like."

Thomas wasn't inclined to believe anything that came out of his mouth, but he nodded.

"I trust you have heard of the financial collapses of several manor houses like Downton?"

"Indeed I have."

"What if I told you these weren't just cases of bad management, but of deception and the largest Ponzi scheme that this country has ever seen? It's a relatively new term, so I understand if you don't know exactly what it means. Do you need a definition?"

"It would be nice."

"Let's say you want to save up your money for the future, or to make a quick pound? An American named Charles Ponzi gathered up the cash of numerous people as investments into a business. He was able to get so many investments by promising they'd get lots of money in return with only a little risk of loss. However, the problem associated with these things is usually that the money only keeps coming if new investors keep coming. The chain follows a sort of a hierarchy, with the people at the top being the ones who made investments first. The cash flow is usually controlled by one person, in this case, Ponzi himself, who controls who gets which amount of money. Ponzi was eventually caught and arrested because the American government discovered that his company was not profiting, and he hadn't sold any real product."

"So basically only the mastermind behind it makes the money?"

"Eventually, yes. The unfortunate thing is that many get away with this awful crime, ruining people's livelihoods by abruptly dissolving the company then skipping out with their large profits. This does damage to other things, like the stock markets, banks, and the economy in general. I met with a woman who had been middle class like me. She said she'd invested in one of these fake companies, then was forced to sell all her family heirlooms and her house, move to a congested tenement in downtown Manchester, and get a job again to survive. She was 56 years of age, and a widow with a child studying abroad. She has severe spinal problems, but got a job in a textile mill just to keep that way of life. But I digress. You understand this term now, yes?"

He was slightly irritated. "What does this have anything to do with Daniel?"

"He's at the very center of it, but everything I tell you must not leave this room. Promise me."

"Okay."

"I want you to say the words and look me in the eye."

"I promise."

"Take a cigarette on the corner. This is going to be long."

_I didn't get that idea earlier…_ he thought to himself. Nevertheless, he could never turn down an offer for a cigarette, so he strolled over and lighted himself one, then sat back down.

"Alright. Downton Abbey is on the brink of failure, but I've been trying to save it."

Thomas' eyes grew wider. A tasty secret to know. "But you are not the lord of the house. How can you do this?"

"I've inherited a great deal of money from Lavinia Swire's father, but that's irrelevant. I guess on the brink is a little melodramatic at this point, though. But, I surveyed all the properties owned by Downton and saw they were being mismanaged. Lands weren't turning up profits, equipment was obsolete, and the people running them scarcely knew how to do their jobs correctly. Robert didn't have it in him to vacate the lands by throwing off longtime residents simply because they didn't produce money, something that was always in such abundance for Downton. But he misinterpreted my calls for changes as simply looking to fire people relentlessly. But before I offered one pence to him, I'd wanted to know what caused the financial disaster. He told me he'd invested in some Canadian railway company before the war that collapsed soon after it ended, around last year. This is what caused the problems, as he recklessly poured all his money into one company. I warned him against ever doing that again. I thought it a singular circumstance, but saw that many other manor houses were having the same problems. Most were forced to shut down. Around the same time, several British, American, and Canadian railroads had been declared bankrupt. However, most were companies I'd never even heard of! Know this, Mr. Barrow. I would not have given up some of my weekends and my leisure during the week to devote my time to this if I was protecting mere mansions built to eventually fail. I found out that even lower-classed people spared some pounds to invest in these industries, even though all came crashing down. I am a friend of the downtrodden."

Matthew got up to pour himself a glass of scotch from a bottle and continued talking. "I was approached by several people who had banded together to fight what they thought was an injustice when they found out that the executives of these businesses were getting large profits for themselves in the year that revenue had apparently all vanished. After I—"

Thomas grabbed his wrist firmly and frantically. "Don't. I'll leave if you take a sip. I don't know what you're like when you're…drunk and alone."

Matthew looked with understanding, but pleaded, "I have had a difficult day today. I can tell you about my marriage problems, too, if you like, but you don't care about that. You're only here for you."

Thomas still had reason to suspect Matthew, as he hadn't gotten to Daniel yet, but that statement still cut him deeply. He let go and sat down, but instantly putting his guard up again, even after the friendly offer for a cigarette.

Matthew carried the glass back to the table and said, "Sorry, you know I didn't mean it like that, but please. I promise you I have not harmed anyone, nor will harm you. Where was I?"

"The lower classes are rising in revolt," he said sarcastically.

"Ahh, yes. So, many came to me asking me to investigate, as I knew about this sort of thing and was a respected member of this community that would be listened to. I tried telling them that the Home Department was responsible for all of this, but they somehow convinced me not to trust them. So I bought an office that only a few people at Downton knew about. You, Cousin Robert, the Dowager, and probably Cousin Cora, considering Robert's talkativeness. I started looking into all of these cases so that I could somehow help these people get their money back, some of whom were starving. I gathered many of the more affluent of the group into a spy network, where they could feed me information so that I could build profiles on all the executives. Interestingly enough, it was a group of the same 3 men that directed 20 different companies. I began to get discouraged when I realized there wasn't that much to go on after 3 months. Then one of my birds told me that they recognized the man who had recruited her into one of the schemes. I knew that if I could figure out as much as possible about him, I'd learn about other people. I soon learned his name was Daniel Rodham."

Thomas was stunned. How could Daniel—his Daniel—do this? This wasn't like him, this was incredibly selfish. It was almost—evil. "Go on, please."

"I soon found him frequently meeting with other colleagues of his and plotting in different parts of town. I soon was able to amass hundreds of more profiles after. As I got deeper and deeper into this, I figured Daniel was one of the main masterminds behind a plot. He dressed in different clothes and facial features when going to board meetings, and he sent all the money to his family in Ireland."

Thomas remembered his charming Irish accent. It was strange. Even after knowing this, he hated Daniel, _but he still loved him_. "I'm going to ask you one more time Matthew. Why did you kill him?" He'd forgotten he was addressing his superior and talked to him as his equal in this explosion of information.

Matthew seemed unaffected, however. "For the last time, I didn't kill him. It was some drunkard."

"Don't expect me to believe that! The footprints are size 12, I tore a piece of blonde hair –dishwater blonde hair— from the head, the garments of the man's overcoat were of cotton. I have seen you in a cotton overcoat before. The culprit was extremely drunk. _You_ were extremely drunk upon entering Downton late that night, which you will not tell Mr. Carson that I told you. And don't even lie and say you were out on a business trip."

"No offense, Mr. Barrow, but you'd make for a terrible detective. First of all, I have size 11 soles. Also, although I was wearing an overcoat, it was made from tweed, and tweed does not easily tear on coats. I must know, how did you know to check my office for information relating to Daniel?"

"Promise me you will not become furious."

"Please, I'm the most even-tempered person in our house."

"I rummaged through your room and found the compartment behind the hollow board with a note telling yourself to follow your target and get him out of the way while you still could."

"Hmm. I was expecting something like that. I was trying to make it less obvious by putting it in the floor, but Mary was making a fuss about having to move to another room during construction of a 'useless' door, so I discarded it. Explaining it to her would've put her at risk."

"You mean I am the only one who knows of this?"

"That you are."

"But that doesn't answer my last point. You're saying you coincidentally walked into the outskirts of town incredibly drunk at the same time as the criminal, then somehow magically sustained a pain in your throat through no physical contact with anyone whatsoever?"

"I'm saying I found out Mary was having an affair. Almost ten years of my life I've given her! It's quite depressing to have someone you've given all for throw it back in your face. And it's all because of this crusade that I feel like I have to see through to the end. "

Thomas was slightly intrigued as to who Lady Mary would cheat on the love of her life with, but he knew that this was none of his business.

"But, let me get to the point, Mr. Barrow. I did come home from a business trip, but earlier than expected. I spent hours in my office drinking. She's been very distant lately because of me spending my nights out late. I told her that I couldn't tell her why. We had a huge fight just before I left. She told me to go to my whore and never come back. I get back and I call her bedroom from the station looking to patch things up. But instead of her voice, a man picks up the phone, laughing. He lies and tells me Mary isn't there at that moment, but I can hear her in the background telling him to hang it up."

"Have you confronted her about it?"

"Yes. We haven't been on speaking terms for weeks. It's doubtless still going on. I feel like lying with someone myself to get back at her, now. But I thought you wanted to know about Daniel?!"

He couldn't help himself. He was slightly amused at how disharmonious the family was. But he couldn't show it on his face, not for fear of punishment, but a simple human compassion prevented him from doing so. "Of course I want to know, I was just distracted by that story. I sincerely hope things improve for you, Mr. Crawley."

"Oh, stop all that, sod this stupid social code! Might we just talk as equals to each other in private?"

"But, of course."

"I was going to kill Daniel because I was so blinded by booze that I didn't know what I was doing. I fell on the corner of my desk on getting up, which is why my throat hurt severely, and I knew from my informers that he'd be in that part of town. Now, you know for sure that I couldn't have killed him because I was going to use my pistol to get it done with quickly. But, I honestly don't know who killed your friend."

Thomas interrupted him at this. "Then if your original plan was to kill only Daniel, why do you still carry a pistol?"

Matthew seemed to ignore him. "I immediately ran the other way to get on the train before the police arrived, for I had heard you screaming. I did get a slight glimpse of the lad's face. I understand how you could've confused it with mine. He was under a streetlight, and he had features identical to mine, in traits but not appearance. Dishwater blonde hair, blue eyes, about the same height as me. I called to him to ask how to get to the train station, but he seemed as drunk as me. I'll make you a deal."

"What?"

"If you help me figure out who Mary is cheating with, I'll get you your killer. It was probably someone trying to silence him by making it look like an accident. To knock out the competition, perhaps?"

Thomas pondered on this. His conscience was shouting. "How am I even supposed to help you? What will you do to this man once you know his identity? Will you shoot him dead like you were planning for my beau?" He thought it strange that he was speaking of something so freely that could land him in jail with a man he'd scarcely talked to over ten years.

"I'll confront him like anyone else would. Don't worry, I won't be drunk."

Thomas was firm. "Matthew. Tell me why you still have the gun, or I swear to God, I'll go to the police." He was probably bullshitting a bullshitter, but it was the only card he had.

"There are men trying to kill me."

"What?! Good god, don't they know who you are?"

"It doesn't matter where they're concerned. These men have enough money to buy both of our arses 2000 times over. If you looked with more detail in my bottom drawer, you'd know that I just got a death threat. That is why I didn't tell my wife. She'd have gone to Robert, thinking he could do something. These men will not stop until they've taken everything, and I'm the only one that can prevent it. I just don't know what I can do."

"Can't the government stop them with all the evidence you've uncovered?"

"That's the thing. I can't get enough evidence yet to convict. The other reason I intended to go to Daniel was so I could get him to take me back to his house and show me files. But…now that he's dead, his home is probably free of residents." He looked at Thomas eagerly.

"No, Matthew. They've probably cleared the place already."

"I know. But I can't be too sure. I change my earlier proposition. If you come with me to the house to get evidence bringing down these people, I will find out who killed your boyfriend. I am happy that you're putting yourself out there, after the whole situation with James. By the way, I personally don't think I could ever find myself doing what you do, but you seemed to care deeply for someone, and I think that's all that matters. Don't tell that to the Conservatives in the house, though. Do we have a deal?"

"What of your wife?"

"Oh, I'll fix that as soon as I've wrapped this up. It's not like the family will let her leave me anyway."

"I'll tell you what. You have been very kind to me this day by revealing all that you have. I will expose the man cheating with your wife for nothing in return."

"Thank you so much. If you ever find yourself in grave trouble at Downton, only refer to me and it'll go away. But…"

Thomas shook his hand. "Oh, yes, we have a deal. Let's go right now."

"I think now would be the perfect time, but how far away is his house?"

"We can walk."

"Well, first, help me get everything in here back in its place."

Now, Thomas was regretting his clumsiness. But after the clean-up, he and Matthew walked out of the room and stood face to face with a towering, sinewy, man with a heavy scowl.


	6. Chapter 6

**Just as a warning, stuff gets a little gory at some parts in this.**

With a heavy Welsh accent, almost growling, staring with utmost contempt into Matthew's eyes, he said, "You've been a terrible problem that we've not been able to get rid of, Mr. Crawley. I've been instructed to take you to my superiors so that you and they may negotiate an end to this affair."

Matthew shot back, "Why, so you can kill me as soon as I step one foot out of sight? I think I'd rather pass on that proposition."

"Very well, you know I'll have to take you by force, then." He began walking towards Matthew.

At that moment, Matthew, a crack shot, 100% confident of victory, aimed the barrel straight for the middle of the brute's forehead, and pulled the trigger.

Only a click.

Thomas put his face into his palm and drew a long sigh. Matthew, on the other hand, gave the command to run inside and lock the door.

"Good God, Crawley! The least you could've done was check the gun before preparing to use it."

At that moment, a bullet from a shotgun hit the door, leaing a hole and taking a good chunk of the upper door with it.

Anxiously, Matthew instructed Thomas, "We can worry about my blunders later. Crouch down, and put that chair under the doorknob, then back away from the door as soon as you can. Hide behind the bookcase while I load bullets into this damned thing."

As Thomas was complying, Matthew was looking on the ground in his inner room for bullets, and to his sheer joy, found 3 of them. It took him about a minute to load it, and he prepared for his standoff. He got down below a file cabinet and watched the man use his massive weight to batter the door open. He stomped in and headed straight for the only lighted area in the room.

It was a difficult shot, but he knew he had to land it on the first or second try, or they'd be doomed. He targeted perfectly, but his elbow was caught by the hard file cabinet, hurting his elbow and aim, causing the man to be alerted of his position when he fired 2 shots.

Thomas had seen it all from his secure spot. He had to do something quick, or Matthew would be doomed. He searched around wildly for something,_ anything_, that could be used as a lethal weapon. His eyes landed on an end table to his left.

A fountain pen. It looked sharp from where he was standing, but damage couldn't be made quickly enough.

A hole-puncher. If he swung hard enough at him, it could knock him unconscious, but not kill him. He was a big fellow. Could the blow do any damage?

Letter opener. Of course, with enough force, fatality was assured. But, was he ready to take a life? He knew of his promise, but could he actually go through with it?

With no time, he was about to find out.

As he ran as silently up to him, Matthew shot him in the chest, which deterred him. He was woefully out of bullets, getting ready to search for more by darting out as quickly as possible. The large man stood there in pain, and regained his composure, just about to unload on him when…

Slash. Cut. _Saw._

Blood spurted out like a clogged fountain, as his neck became red.

He fell with a thud to the ground.

At this, Matthew stood up and looked at his savior, his whole body shaking. "Thank God you were here, Thomas. I swear, there were bullets inside the thing when I last checked the gun. I must have taken them out when I—you know."

Thomas didn't process anything he said. He couldn't believe he'd just killed someone. He was unable to move, frozen in place staring down at his victim. It was a thrill, a strange sort of thrill. He felt like he'd struck a blow for his conscience. He felt…a little more whole. After standing there for what seemed like an eternity, oblivious to the repeated calling of his name by Matthew, he felt like a change came about him. A change that could never be reversed. He was able to tell what it really meant to take a life, and how much hate had to be inside a person that would push them to actually doing the act.

He'd become a medic not only to save his own life, but to prevent himself from taking others. However, why should he have to play by any of those rules now? This made him hate Daniel's killer more, as he hated himself at that moment for enjoying it, while simultaneously taking pride in his first kill.

He finally answered to Matthew, who'd called his name six times already. "I still love him, after all he's done."

The lawyer was slightly confused. "Excuse me? Did you hear anything I've been saying to you? I asked you if you were all right."

"Oh, sorry, yes I am."

"How do you feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you have just killed a man, and I suspect this is your first time. I didn't know what to make of it myself either."

He didn't feel like explaining his revelation to Matthew, so he just said, "I don't know what to feel."

"Well, if you want to talk about it, my door is open." With that, he grudgingly looked at the body and smiled wryly. "It's a good thing this isn't a carpet. Here, help me carry him out and leave him here."

Thomas was flabbergasted. "But what of the police? What of your other partners?"

"They will stumble upon a man who committed suicide upon being remorseful after he attempted to kill a lawyer who had failed in helping him."

"But how—"

"Wipe the handle of the knife and drag him out while I clean inside. This place must be spotless. After, I'll help you position him outside, near the front door."

Each of them went apart to do their jobs. Matthew got a cloth in one hand, put a glove on another, and he wiped the gun. He put it on the table temporarily. Then, he got a mop and some bleach that was meant for a custodian's use. Due to Matthew's unique need of secrecy, he declined housekeeping services. He was generous with the pouring, and spread the mop around to ensure the smell went around the entire office. He deposited the mop in a backroom sink and washed the blood out vigorously.

When Thomas was finished, he waited for Matthew, holding the handle of the knife with a cloth of his own.

Together they put the man in a seated position, slightly tilted against the rough stucco wall, the knife in his right hand, his fingers making contact with the gory slit that was his throat.

After Matthew went over a last sweep, he emerged, locking what was left of the door. He carried in his free hand a box of ammunition for a second gun, while he intended to keep 3 for himself, to prevent what had happened today from reoccurring.

He tossed gun and bullets to Thomas, saying, "If we're working together, you need to be able to defend yourself. Do you know how to use it?"

Thomas eyed the device curiously. He'd never held a gun before. This one seemed heavy, but very light at the same time. He tried opening the loading area with difficulty, so Matthew had helped him. He could see there were no bullets loaded, so he aimed at the door and pulled, but no click. The safety was on. He would learn when the time came.

"Are you ready to go to Daniel's house?"

"Sure. But what time is it?"

Matthew saw that it was approaching 5:00. "Going towards nighttime. We'd better hurry before it gets dark. What time were you supposed to be back at the house by?"

"Before now," Thomas laughed. He laughed because of how batshit Carson would get and what the ramifications would be if Matthew didn't vouch for him.

But to his relief, Matthew said that he would talk their way out of it once they both got home.

After making a third and final check to ensure they hadn't gone over something, they made haste for Daniel's house by Crawley's car. They reached the place fairly quickly and wasted no time in knocking. They jumped over a fence guarding the back, and with their hats drawn low over their faces, both unholstered their guns. Thomas, remembering to take the safety off, stayed behind Thomas as they treaded on the grass behind the house that would suggest anything but immense wealth. There were cracks everywhere in the light blue paint, and the ground was overgrown with weeds and gopher holes. Atop the roof was a rusted wind vane, and some of the windows were extremely dirty. However, the inside had proved cozy enough, as Thomas had learned over time.

Matthew got up to the back entrance and kicked the door in with full force.

They searched around to make sure they were alone, and with that, Thomas went back to close the door.

They went to work, looking for evidence.

Matthew asked Thomas, "Is there any place that was off limits to you, or a place where he always tried to discourage or distract you from going to?"

He had to think long and hard about this. He hadn't come in here for the secrets. His head was close to spurting rampantly with all of the information he had received that day. Now, he had to help Matthew make sense of it all.

He went into Daniel's—or their, depending on you looked at it—room, and he remembered once, just the once, when Daniel had called him back to bed when he was moving to open the door to the closet. That door was always closed, with a lock too. _Who locks a closet?_

When they went inside, there was only a hole where the lock had used to be, the knob on the ground with its screws. He silently sighed and closed his eyes, knowing there'd be nothing. He tried knocking on the wall to see if it was hollow. _One trick only works once, I suppose._

He checked under the bed, and to his surprise he found a box. He grabbed for it, but he could not reach it at any angle. He went for a broomstick and pushed it out the other end. Hopefully his business associates had missed this.

He looked at the box and saw that it was closed only by a latch. He lifted it effortlessly, and inside was nothing but a letter. A twenty-page-long letter. He called Matthew to it, and they both skimmed the contents. It quickly became obvious that this was all the proof they needed. A signature from a dead man, asking forgiveness, addressing the letter to anyone who discovered it upon his death. Apparently those preparations included a detailed list of all the business transactions and where to go to find proof of them all, the names of every employee involved, and proof of the over-inflated bank accounts. Matthew was jovial.

After going to the last page, Thomas saw that there was a second, totally unrelated letter attached. It was addressed to him in particular, begging him forgiveness for not being a better person. _"Thomas, I don't think I ever told you this, but I have a mad love for you. I am obsessed with you in whatever I am doing and whenever I am doing it. Whether I am at my place of work, whether I am sleeping, whether the sun burns or the moon glows, whether I break my leg, whether I eat a peach, I think of you. You may disregard whatever I say. You may be very angry with me. You may be saddened that I was taken. You may not know what to feel. But you must know this. I am not a bad person. Only of a bad background. I wanted to get out, I really could, but my associates were making things difficult for me. I knew I wouldn't make it through this year. Just remember, even in death, I will be with you by your side until your time comes. Still, I want you to live life. Do not hold yourself back for fear of me. If any of what we do as human beings is truly wrong, I shall see you in hell. But I pray forgiveness for everything I have done."_

Had Matthew not been there, Thomas might have shed a tear.

"Thank God, at last I can return home to my family. I can live again!"

Thomas still had one question. "But what does this mean? Did the company for sure kill him?"

"I don't see how anyone else could've done it."

"But why so violently? Wouldn't just a gun have been easier?"

"Why does any criminal commit a crime in a certain way? Thomas, I'll give you whatever help you need, but personally I don't think—"

"I don't care what you bloody think!" he snapped. Realizing what he'd done, he apologized, "Excuse me, I didn't mean that, but I won't be able to ever rest until I know for sure who did it."

"I'm sure it'll all be cleared up once I go to London with my evidence and the prosecutions begin. You mustn't tell anyone where I go and when I plan on leaving. I can't risk people following me. Did you notice how my informant never came to my office?"

"I almost forgot about that."

"Killed."

"What?! How do you know?"

"I saw him on our right with his neck cracked. I didn't do anything for the poor soul because I couldn't without drawing attention."

"I'm going to call the police and tell him he's there."

"They've found him by now, most likely."

"Well in that case, I think we should get going."

Putting everything except Daniel's letter to Thomas in the box, they walked out with Matthew leading the way once again, checking both sides of the house for any intruders. Finding none, they quickly hurried back to the car and drove home.

After a few minutes of contemplative silence, Thomas blurted out, "When are you leaving for London?"

"In two days. I'll do it at night, and send a telegram to them from a false location. Somewhere they wouldn't even waste their time sending someone to. It seems you're anxious for this thing to progress quickly," he joked.

"Well, I know how to catch the man having the affair with your wife."

He broke the common sense rule of driving and turned to him. "How?"

"So, first, you said you were going to leave during the night. Better you do it at 8:00, let them know you're leaving but still not tell them. Then…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry if the last chapter was slow and nothing really happened for you, but that had to build up to this. Everything is about to blow up. There will be sex in this chapter. I do not own ****_The Age of Innocence_****.**

Mary had had a long day. She went out shopping for a decent cloche hat, slightly interested in the new style of her sister. "Flapper", they called it. She had been too picky at the ones she did manage to find, so instead of buying anything, she simply took a stroll through town with one of her old friends come to visit from Oxford. A stroll became a car ride, a car ride became an adventure through the countryside, and that became a stop at a tennis court. The two of them decided to give it a whirl, even though Elaine was the only one to have ever played.

She was sore all over.

She removed all her jewelry and put on a nightgown. By the time she had got home, everyone else had already finished dinner, so she decided she would just pass. They had eaten at a restaurant on the way home. The fettuccini she had was cold, and the sauce smelled awful, but it was filling enough.

She was thinking of a more appealing feast. One that had been scheduled for tonight. She waited for all of the servants to finish with their work for the night, then she could do her usual forbidden act, as her husband for sure was not going to be interrupting it.

The first time she had done it, she felt horrible. But the feeling it gave her—a new sense of life, a feeling of youth, an aurora of ecstasy. If anyone found out, the scandal caused could be massive. She'd already been almost caught doing it before, she was going to have to be more careful.

Yet, she was willing to take the risk just because he was so _sexy._

It all started several months ago when she noticed that her husband was spending longer hours out of the house, for what purpose she didn't know. It couldn't have been work. He hardly even practices law anymore. Anytime she'd ask him about it, he would just write it off as nothing. One night she came to him bawling, begging for him to tell her, to give her something that would calm her. He still refused to say anything. She had demanded the name of the woman he was seeing.

Yet, he still claimed that what he was doing was so private he couldn't tell his own wife. Thus, she thought it prudent to sleep in a vacant room in the house that night. He begged her not to go, but she was determined.

She might have even been inclined to believe Matthew if he had even stayed home with her for even an hour, just the two of them, and connected with each other. But he was too busy for this too.

She was alone in the house on one of those hot summer days where the rest of the family ventured for an outing. She was in the library, curled up on the sofa reading her favorite novel, _The Age of Innocence_. She identified with one of the characters, whose upper class lifestyle impeded her self-determination as a woman and the end of her loveless marriage.

The book was making her start to question. Did she really want to stay married to someone who didn't even acknowledge her anymore? Someone who had no respect for her?

As she was flipping through the pages, the young, dashing new footman, James, walked in. He was carrying in a pitcher of water and a large bucket of ice.

"Mrs. Hughes wanted that I take this up to you, m'lady. How are you feeling today?"

She eyed him curiously. He had a genuinely look of concern on his face. "I'm alright enough. What makes you ask?"

"I just wanted to know, m'lady."

She didn't know why she was being so aggressive about it, but she said firmly, "Why?"

He kept the same look that he had worn before. "Well, to be honest, I heard an argument across the hall a few nights ago, then sobbing as I drew nearer to the noise. Mr. Crawley was off in a rage out of your room. I turned around, but couldn't forget that sound. You'd probably say it's not my place to ask, but I can't stand it when I hear a woman crying. It reminds me too much of my mother."

Mary smiled. At least this boy cared about her. At least someone in the house showed sympathy. "Excuse me for my tone, James. As you obviously know, I've been in a less than favorable mood lately. But the mere fact you asked me brightens my day. May I ask how you are doing?"

His white teeth flashed when he said, "Just fine, my lady. What book, may I ask, are you reading?"

She told him and he replied, "A curious topic for a lady like yourself, I would suspect."

She usually preferred not to associate with the servants, but this one had a certain air about him that she liked. She replied wittily with, "Isn't it curious for a footman to be asking so many questions of a lady?"

He remembered himself, saying, "Forgive me, Lady Mary. I'll go now."

She couldn't help but giggle. She put her book down and asked him to sit down and tell her about books that he liked.

"I don't have much time for long reading, m'lady. Even when I do, I prefer to learn a new piece to play on the piano."

"Oh yes, I've been told you're quite the piano prodigy."

He had a cocky grin. "Well, I do know my way around the keys."

"You should play on the grand piano for dinner."

"You really think your family would like that?"

"I think they'd like it just fine. But I don't think I could stand to wait that long. Would you care to show me a song?"

They walked into the piano room and he sat down to play "Kiss a Miss." She was amazed at how talented he was.

She wanted to challenge him and see the reaction. "But Mr. Kent, can you play something more serious?"

Oblivious to being called out of the name required for someone of his rank, he stared at her silently and smugly, while he began playing Moonlight Sonata, his eyes not even on the piano. He went on for five minutes until he stopped, saying that was as much as he knew.

"Please, I must know where you got such a beautiful gift from."

"In childhood, I went to lessons before my parents passed away."

Mary hadn't even known. She could see the dejection in his blue eyes as he said that. She involuntarily put her arm on his shoulder saying, "I am sorry, Mr. Kent. Excuse me, I didn't know."

Jimmy looked up at the hand, such a gentle touch. Then he found her eyes. "There's nothing to forgive. But, you do know that I'm to be addressed by my first name?"

"Forget about all that. You and I are here by ourselves, can we not talk with each other as any two friends would talk?"

He laughed. "I'm happy that you think so highly of our relationship already."

She stared into his eyes and something in them reminded her of Matthew. A Matthew whose movements and expressions were far more seductive.

She realized it was time for her to get on with her life. If Matthew didn't want her, she would find someone who did value her.

After that encounter, one hot summer day led to another. After following weeks, she had lured him into her bedroom, locking the doors and doing various things to his snake. She regretted the decision. She knew he would take the full weight of the blame if they were ever caught, and he would lose his job. She knew this would cause immense scandal and shame her house beyond comprehension. But she couldn't help herself. She uncontrollably licked her lips every time he passed by.

Now, he had walked into the room, dressed in his nightwear, his tight undershirt which fit him so well. He was there under pretense of carrying a cup of tea into the room for the Lady to drink.

As soon as he was in, she dragged the chair in the corner and locked the door as a double precaution. Then before she knew it, his arms were around her waist and his head rubbing her own.

"You have no idea how painful it was, having to go the entire day without seeing your face."

She could feel his arousal. God, he was quick. She grinded her hips against it while her hand caressed his smooth face. "I thought of you most of today also. I spent most of it tangling with balls, so you could understand why I would think of you."

Jimmy closed his eyes at the feeling of her sliding. "You always know your way around them, that's sure enough." He felt the need to raise his hands to her chest and begin teasing her with circular motions of his thumbs, eliciting load moans from her. He began to increase from delicate touches to hard rubbing. She was on the verge of a scream after that. He had to put a finger to her lips. "We don't want your family to interrupt us before we can even get started, do we?"

He was right. But for the first time in her life, someone had been causing her to forget all her upbringing and lose all her composure. Other than Pamuk, of course. But he was nothing compared to James. "Sorry. But—ohhh—you're making me hard."

"That's a problem, then."

"And why is that?"

"You're not hard enough yet."

He decided to pin her against the wall and forced his way into her mouth, tasting all that he could with his tongue. His hands enveloped hers as he kept breathing hard and fighting, barely being challenged. She was out of reality, just enjoying the familiar feeling of his tongue.

He lowered his hands and slid them under her nightgown and threw it off. She was only wearing her bra and underwear now. He knew she disliked taking off all their clothes, because it increased the time it took to put everything back on if they needed to. However, he was doing it. She was too turned on to care. He took off the bra, held up one of the breasts, and began sucking on it.

"I—I need to hold onto something…"

"Jump up, then."

While his own hard cock teased her entrance, he kept sucking delicately. Soon though, he knew he couldn't stand anymore. The two of them collapsed on the bed, and they lay on the bed for a minute, silent, sweaty and winded. Then she brought her head closer to his ear, and whispered as smoothly as butter, "Get inside me, please, I'm begging…"

She didn't care if he penetrated her. He was trying his best to be careful and pull out before he spurted. He threw down his pants and revealed his long, hard member, his bare arse at a flattering angle from Mary's view.

She lay on the bed sideways, gawking at his build. While drool already dripped down her chin, he took off his shirt. He told her, "Since there's no chance anyone will be disturbing us tonight, I want to feel all of you on me. I want to slide my hands from your top to bottom and for us to warm each other, not the blankets. So, this," he said, taking off her underwear and throwing it against the wall, "will have to go."

He stayed true to his word and ran one hand from her legs up, then lay her on the bed to end their prelude. Then she did something surprising. She told him to lie on his back, and she got on top of his long hard-on. She slowly edged up and down, holding onto his shoulders and looking down on him, as he held her hips. Jimmy closed his eyes and gave a silent groan, not having to do the work _and_ enjoying himself. He knew though that if she kept on this much longer, though, he would go inside her. That would not be good for any party. When he was almost too close, he warned her and she backed off. It was too much. Just when he felt he could control it, she put her mouth on top and closed on so tight it felt like she was biting him. If she had let free her teeth she would have. She sucked him off hard, tasting him.

The warmth of her mouth on him—that familiar feeling—could not stop him from coming into it, something he hadn't dared do before.

Instead of being angry, she was surprised. The taste was too bitter for her liking, but he enjoyed it. "Lie with me," he pleaded.

She lay her body on top of his, and they curled up. They stayed like that for five minutes. She nibbled on his ear. "Oh, how I love your embrace…"

He stared down at her, both of them still devoid of clothing. "I want to do more. Please I'm sure you'll like it."

He had her rub him so he could get hard again. He had her get on the bed on all fours and he kneeled behind her. He put his member inside the entrance when she flinched and made an objection.

He rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Trust me, my love. Just enjoy the ride."

For someone who was so young, he was very experienced with different acts. He had breathed in her loins, tasting the insides with his tongue, he had put his fingers in there, he had even been able to pleasure her to the limits of ecstasy without even touching her down there yet.

However, this was a new kind of pleasure. He lifted her rear and held it with his arms tightly. He seemed to be going so gently, then she would feel a thump against the end. That lulling pain that always came back after a few seconds. After awhile she asked him to continue with it faster.

The speed just increased and increased. She had to grab on to the head of the bed. Both of them were grunting by now. Mary was blind from the pleasure, and Jimmy was looking up to the ceiling, trying to release a second wave.

Before meeting her, he had felt so much sexual tension. He just wanted to do someone, something. His last girlfriend had been a secret, too. Three years ago at Lady Anstruther's. She was the real reason he didn't follow them to France. A redhead who ended up only wanting him because of his salary. She wanted to make more money and decided it convenient that he be edged out by threatening to cry rape. He didn't even want to take the chance, albeit her case was flimsy. Here he was again, he found himself still in England, this time in Yorkshire, having sex with another beautiful woman whom he didn't completely trust, but enjoyed nevertheless.

All of this he thought of as he was pushing at full force, nearly straining himself going so hard. He released completely and he let out a sigh.

He stared at the clock. Half past midnight.

"I have to go, Mrs. Crawley. As much as I'd like to spend the night with you, I don't think it would go too well with Lord Grantham."

What was he doing? He knew she was married, to the heir of a mansion, for that manner, but for some reason, he didn't care. He wondered for his own moral compass sometimes.

She didn't care though. She watched him get up and put back on his clothes, and as he was moving to leave, she spanked him playfully.

He grabbed her arm and twirled her into a hug. He kissed her on the nose, which they both thought silly but nice. " 'Til the next time, my dove."

" 'Til the next time, my Adonis."

He lifted the chair from the doorknob and they gave each other one last hungry kiss on the lips. If they were lucky, they could do this again tomorrow, as long as Matthew remained away.

Jimmy closed the door leading into the room then opened the door across leading into the hallway. He tried closing it as soft as possible, but the sound was heavy enough to wake Thomas who stood around the corner down the hall, leaning against the wall for a good hour and starting to slump down.

Thomas didn't know how much longer he could've waited. He drew nearer into the shadows, though, so whoever crossed into his vision wouldn't see him.

That was when he stood as still as possible, watching Jimmy walking briskly past him.

"Oh, fuck me," he said under his breath.


End file.
